


Good Man faithful, On My Knees

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Grief, M/M, Past Ygraine/Uther, Poor Coping, Rough Sex, Uther tries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-08-23 14:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16620899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Leon’s knees are calloused; Uther’s lips cracked. Arthur studies the strangeness of his father and his most trusted knight, and says nothing as Uther lifts laws banning all magic. Leon can see the struggle in him, the war to tighten the laws and crack down on even the most innocent of magic use. Leon softens the struggle as best he can in dark of their room, with nimble fingers and gentle words.





	Good Man faithful, On My Knees

Ygraine has only just passed and Uther grieves. Leon steps away, allows the king room to weep for the woman he loved. Perhaps the only person the king has ever loved that deeply, and he does not enter the king’s chambers until he is called for when Arthur takes his first steps. He expects rage or distance or forced propriety. He does not expected the tender way Uther grips him, the way he weeps into Leon’s neck, warm salt crusting the collar of his shirt. He does his best to console, to wrap his arms tight around the lonely king, to press his lips to his temple and whisper empty words. He does not taste the madness in the warmth of Uther’s skin that night.

The first hint he sees of the madness in Uther comes on a hunting trip. Not the first hint that has ever existed, certainly, but the first of the tangible proofs Leon will one day reach back for when he tries to explain he wasn’t always this way to a son who lost too much. Leon isn’t entirely sure how it comes about, how they’re standing there with a sorcerer on his knees, head raised and eyes vibrant as they defy the king.

“You killed your Queen, and now you kill your citizens.” Leon isn’t the only one who gasp, but he sees the way Uther flinches away from him. He tries to put a reassuring hand on the king’s shoulder, to tell him  _ I know he lies _ . _ I am surprised at the fool’s courage that allows him to speak so. _ But Uther looks at him, afraid and betrayed and so alone it hollows out Leon’s chest and roars through him like winter winds. Leon shivers and Uther steps back as though he has been slapped. Leon cannot understand why.

He turns his sword on the man bent before him, and Leon watches something in him change. It small, slow, like an earth-buried creature just beginning to stir, just breaking the surface and reaching for the light of day. Uther runs his sword through the man. Leon wonders if the creature seeks the light or seeks to consume the light.

It is quietly agreed among all of the knights that day to bury the sorcerer and never to speak of it. After all, he did come at Uther with arms raised originally. Leon is sure only he was watching close enough to see the hunger that exploded in Uther’s eyes as he wiped the blood from his face.

The hunger is a dormant worm. It curls inside of Uther, burrows in those dark and secret places he doesn’t allow Leon anymore. It takes root, but it doesn’t break the surface until Arthur babbles. Leon loathes the day the child learns to ask “Mama?” If he ever discovers the servant who taught the babe that word, he might run them through himself.

Uther however, maintains his calm in the presence of the council. He even manages a small, if not slightly twisted smile. The smile hangs itself from Leon’s neck, weighs him down until he cannot lift his hands to stay Uther’s fist as it slams into the woman’s face. Leon’s only consolation is the symbol carved into her chest; even he can recognize a charm meant to harm, even one so crudely drawn.

He avoids Uther’s chambers though, when he burns the whole family for the crimes of their mother. Uther lets him have his space for almost three weeks and then he seeks him out. He corners Leon in the armory. It’s just the two of them, and Leon is convinced Uther ordered the other knights away. Uther doesn’t speak for his crime nor does he condemn the coward in Leon that would have him avoid his king. Instead, he does as he always does when seeking forgiveness; he sinks to his knees and unlaces Leon.

It doesn’t matter that Leon is sweaty, or that he wears the dust of the day. Uther begs with his tongue until Leon is a shattered apology dripping down his chin.

“Do not go where I cannot follow, my king.”

“I thought I was just Uther, in this position.”

Leon tugs him up and he kisses him; he does not mind the sticky, gritty feel of Uther’s lips, or the harsh heat of his tongue. He worries though, at teeth that are suddenly too sharp against his shoulders and fingers too demanding against his waist.

Uther executes seventeen druids when Arthur breaks his third birthday with a fever that threatens to take him. Leon blanches, refuses to attend the burning. Instead he holds the boy, his fostered son, against his chest and weeps until his tears cool the boy. He refuses to let Uther see the child until the sheen of sweat no longer glistens under his fringe and only allows the king to hold his son when the child’s dimples are full once more.

“Come to bed, Leon.”

“Stay your sword, my Lord.”

Uther’s face shadows like the sky before a great storm, and Leon can count the emotions that cross it before Uther settles on something soft and nameless. “Would you have me let Ygraine lie unavenged?”

Leon half-snarls at the king. “Do not be a fool, my King. I would have you let Ygraine lie where she is buried, yes. But I would have you do so for the sake of the babe sleeping against your chest and for the kingdom who still bows her knees to you.”

Uther nods. “And what would you have me do for you?”

Leon doesn’t answer, doesn’t have one. He just sinks to his knees. He is prepared to swear his fealty to his king, despite the strange worm curling around his spine, telling him this is wrong. But then Uther is doing something he so rarely does, sinking to his own knees, and it builds something strong in Leon, a faith, a hope, that makes his knees heavy, makes his lids droop.

The insanity does not leave Uther. It rarely releases his grip on him, and Leon struggles to keep them afloat. Uther’s sword strikes hard and fast, and Leon can only bear so many strikes. He tries though, skies above but the king tries. Only four sorcerers fall before Arthur celebrates sixteen summers.

Leon’s knees are calloused; Uther’s lips cracked. Arthur studies the strangeness of his father and his most trusted knight, and says nothing as Uther lifts laws banning all magic. Leon can see the struggle in him, the war to tighten the laws and crack down on even the most innocent of magic use. Leon softens the struggle as best he can in dark of their room, with nimble fingers and gentle words.

On the nights it’s too much, when the rage and the grief crawl out of Uther’s mouth, out of his heart, Leon forces the king to his knees and begs. “Do not go where I cannot follow.”

Uther sobs against his thighs, into the crooks of his hips. “I will not go. I can be faithful to you, here, now. Do not leave me.”

Leon picks him up and he lets the king pound his rage into him. “Good man follow me below.”

Leon tries to promise him he will, tries to assure the king, but when the moon is high and the stars dull, he leaves Uther on his knees, faithful and repentant. As he heads out the door he whispers, “I’ll find you in the morning, my king.”

 


End file.
